But the good news is that there are a lot of women who are already getting my hopes up for 2152. I can just tell. This new crop is everything that the past hundred-plus years of female contenders was not! They just feel right to me. This is going to be the time, for sure. (Coincidentally, those were the last words my now-140-year-old mother said, in 2076, right before we placed her in the Cryo-Tank so that she could not see the results and be disappointed yet again.)
It’s amazing to me, the weird coincidences we’ve had with these female candidates. First Hillary. Then Liz, Amy, Kamala and Kirsten. Then Alexandria. Then Fiona. Then Tiffany. Then Siri. Then Glorm (1 through 19). They always seem so presidential, and then, every time, like clockwork, the second they enter the race, it turns out that something is the matter with them and that a vote for them would betray the ideals I hold dearest. It almost feels deliberate and malicious on their part. Maybe they are the real cyborgs, not President Dave! (No, I am joking. Dave is certainly a cyborg.)
Next time, the candidate’s authenticity will be palpable to all. People will not be excited about the fact that she is a woman. They will be excited to demonstrate that they are unmoved by considerations of gender but want what is best for all — dispassionately. That will be what happens next time, for sure!
As for now, there are already dozens of women I could name who would be acceptable, and all of whom have one thing in common: They are not currently asking for my vote. There is something about a woman who has never declared any interest in running for president that just screams “presidential.” I am excited to vote for her.
This year was unfortunate, but I just think it showed that if there were a female candidate who was qualified but a fresh face, and who did not bring so much baggage and inauthenticity, people would support her. This is a different problem than four years ago, when the female candidate on whom I had set my hopes had an imperfect response to the Plasmid Crisis, and four years before that, when the woman turned out not to be in perfect control of her army of swarming bots, or four years before that when — well, I forget exactly what the error was, but I know that it was specific and unforgivable.
This is certainly not all women. It’s just every woman so far — a weird fluke that has happened every four years, like clockwork, since 1872. Nothing is holding these women back but themselves, and I am excited for them to be better next time — and fix it.
Yes, next time, things will go differently! So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.
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